


How I Know You

by colazitron



Category: Ed Sheeran (Musician), One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, Recreational Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-28
Updated: 2011-09-28
Packaged: 2017-11-27 04:38:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/658087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colazitron/pseuds/colazitron
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry and Ed get high.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How I Know You

  
**How I Know You**   


Harry knows that Ed is entirely too amused by how wide-eyed he is staring at absolutely everything around him, but he can’t help it. His head is - somewhere - telling him that it’s the weed in his system that makes everything sort of... soft. And pretty. Right now though everything is, well, soft. And pretty. And he doesn’t care that it’s the weed, ‘cause everything is suddenly _so soft_ and he has to run his hands over the battered couch Ed is staying on at the moment. He giggles when his hand comes to rest in a patch of sunlight and his skin warms up. It tingles in that slow way. His head feels packed in cotton, like lying in the sun too long. He brings his warmed up hands up to look at them and wonders if he could see the heat if he tried hard enough and then realises that he’s just had that thought and it’s probably a bit barmy so he peeks through his spread fingers at Ed and says,

“I’m high.”

For some reason, that has Ed in stitches and Harry follows suit because laughing is fun and laughing with someone else is even more fun and he doesn’t need a reason to do it when he’s not high so there’s really no reason at all to hold back now. He clings to the sofa’s back rest with one hand while the other arm curls around his own stomach because, ow, he should maybe consider stopping to laugh after all.

“Ow, stop laughing!” he tells Ed through a few gasps and laughter and Ed goes quiet with the laughter shaking him for a moment before he gasps out,

“How can my laughing hurt you?”

“Because I can’t stop while you’re laughing!” Harry tries to complain but knows that all the maniacal giggling is probably not working in his favour. It feels like forever until they calm down, but then it also feels like forever when Harry reaches out to a cylindrical thing he suddenly spots lying on the floor next to the couch and that can’t be right, right? Only then Ed says “why are you moving in slow-motion?” and, okay, so maybe that really did take forever.

It’s a kaleidoscope Harry finds out as he lifts it and brings it up. He turns in the direction of the windows and the sunlight streaming in and twists the end, watching the colourful glass or plastic tumble over itself and the mirror refract the light to form symmetrical shapes. He tries to get the pink heart to rest just so on the purple flower, because it’d compliment the blue and green really, really well, but gravity and whatever else are not his friends today and when he gets bored he puts it down and goes back to touching things. He’s always liked touching things. The worn strands of the bracelet Gemma knotted for him years ago are almost giving way to wear and he should probably stop fiddling with them, he thinks, so he lets his fingers drift over the other bracelets and then over each other.

Ed just keeps watching him, even when his hands trail along the sofa and find the fabric of his hoodie, creeping up along the cuff and his arm. The fabric feels cosy and soft under his fingertips. He shuffles forward a little on the sofa to make the exploring easier and trails his hand up along Ed’s arm and over his shoulder. He fiddles with the string of the hood for a while, tying it into a knot with one hand before untying it again and deciding to feel for the pulse in Ed’s neck with the pads of his fingers. He’s not sure if he’s found it or if the slow thumping in his fingertips is his own pulse that he feels resonating against Ed’s warm skin, but it makes him smile and bob his head left and right in time with the pulses anyway. He brings up his other hand and puts it on the other side of Ed’s neck, searching for the sign of life there carefully to not give Ed the feeling he was being strangled. He moves his head back and forth and lets his thoughts drift and doesn’t notice that his fingers have left the skin of Ed’s neck behind until they curl in his hair and he’s got a hair twisted around one of his fingers uncomfortably, making it cut into his skin.

“What are you even doing?” Ed asks, but his expression is still open and friendly and curious, so Harry figures it’s not a complaint, but actually just a simple question. He shrugs.

“Checking how you feel.”

“Like a person, I’d suspect,” Ed quips, but doesn’t stop Harry’s hands from running through his hair front to back, back to front, clenching and unclenching in it, making it stand up and flattening it against his head. Harry shuffles yet a bit closer and then hesitates for the first time before shaking his head - to himself, probably - and climbing into Ed’s lap, straddling him. Ed thinks about raising an eyebrow at him but he knows that Harry sometimes has to remind himself that Ed isn’t used to having boys all over him even when he’s _sober_ , so he’s not going to expect the same restraint when he’s high.

“You’re so ginger,” Harry assesses, his eyes seemingly glued to Ed’s hair and his mouth a bit slack-jawed.

“You’re terribly perceptive,” Ed says and finally baits Harry into looking at him again. His eyes _are_ startlingly green right now. Ed’s not sure if that’s because he’s high or because Harry’s high or maybe because they both are.

“How can you even still say perceptive.”

“You just said it.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t come up with it,” Harry points out like it’s an important argument and brushes his nose against Ed’s like that’ll drive his point home better. Ed lets him and grins at Harry.

“I’m not Louis, y’know?” he teases. He’s seen those two together. It’s like there’s some sort of invisible link that won’t let them go longer than, say, 30 minutes without touching each other in some way.

“Yeah, I know,” Harry says pulling back and there’s some sort of look that flits across his features before they settle in a sort of really adorable frowny pout and Harry lets his hands drift down from Ed’s hair along his neck and onto the soft fabric of the hoodie covering his chest.

“Don’t frown,” Ed says, because he doesn’t like it when people frown.

“It won’t stick,” Harry protests, and lets his hands pass down over the flat of Ed’s chest, digging his fingers into the fabric and the skin beneath experimentally, like he’s looking for buttons to press. Ed finds his own hands move from the sofa to Harry’s jeans-clad thighs like he thinks he can or should steady him. The frown vanishes from Harry’s face as he blinks down at the almost red fabric. He tugs at the hood strings and buries his hands in the pockets. Then he lifts his eyes and lets them lock with Ed’s, trying to swallow as his mouth feels suddenly dry and licking his lips like that will help any. He falls forward slowly. Or maybe he leans.

“What are you doing?” Ed asks, but doesn’t jump or run or push.

“You know what I’m doing,” Harry murmurs, the tip of his nose close enough to brush Ed’s again. They just breathe like that for a moment and Ed thinks absurdly that maybe that’ll be it. He doesn’t know if he likes that thought or not. It’s ripped to shreds anyway when Harry whispers,

“Can I?”

“It’s ‘may I’,” he corrects him because sometimes Harry is a bit like his younger brother and that’s probably not a thought you should have before letting said brother-like-person kiss you. Harry takes his time and just rests there with his lips around Ed’s lower one for a while. Or maybe he doesn’t and pries Ed’s mouth open immediately, he’s not sure. It feels a bit like one of those ridiculous action sequences, slowing down and speeding up in bursts. The warmth of Harry’s mouth feels searing until their tongues curl together and Ed learns what searing really means. Harry sucks on his tongue like he thinks if he does it long enough it’ll snap free and he’ll get to keep it. To make sure that doesn’t happen Ed pulls back and sinks his teeth lightly into Harry’s lower lip. Harry makes a sound like it’s the best thing that’s happened to him in a while and his hands curl inside Ed’s hoodie pockets. The rough denim of Harry’s jeans under Ed’s hands is an intriguing contrast to the silk of his mouth and he grips Harry’s thighs harder and tugs at the captive lip. It prompts Harry into drawing his hands out of the pockets and digging the heels of his palms into Ed’s chest as his fingers grab hold of the fabric like he’s losing weight and drifting up and needs to keep himself anchored.

Ed releases Harry’s lip from in between his teeth and Harry seals their lips together again, unhurriedly but deliberately and immediately nonetheless. He pushes his tongue into Ed’s mouth and pulls him closer by the fabric still clenched in his hands before he thinks better of that and presses his fists into Ed’s chest and Ed into the couch and himself into Ed. His knees are already digging into the backrest of the sofa, so he spreads them a little wider and pushes as close as he can. Ed can feel the tension in Harry’s body in the thighs he’s still grabbing so he lifts his hands up and gently places them over Harry’s. Harry makes a protesting sound somewhere in the back of his throat so he doesn’t have to stop kissing him, but Ed pulls away a little and rests their foreheads against each other, murmuring what he hopes is a soothing “Sh, ‘s alright”. Reluctantly Harry allows him to pry his fingers loose. He shuffles back a bit, thinking that Ed’s about to push him off, but instead there’s an arm curling around his waist, pulling him back in. Ed uses the other to bring the hand he still holds in his own up to let it rest on his shoulder. Then he shuffles forward a bit, sinking down lower in the couch and creating a space between his back and the backrest into which Harry can thread his legs, clinging to him a bit like a seriously overgrown chimpanzee.

“Thank you,” Harry breathes and Ed thinks it’s an _absurd_ thing to say, but then Harry’s hands are in his hair, tilting his head back and their lips are crashing together and Harry kisses him, deeply and beseechingly. There’s really nothing he can do other than circling his own arms around Harry’s waist and holding on to him. There’s something fragile building between the two of them as Harry’s hands drop to toy with the zipper of Ed’s hoodie, pulling it down a little only to push it up again, undecided as to whether he really wants to take that step or not. Ed chooses to see the interest in it, not the indecision and lets his own hands crawl up the skin of Harry’s back, pushing under his jumper. Harry pulls away from his lips to gasp and he quivers for a moment.

Their eyes lock and Harry bites his lower lip, waiting or worrying, but he doesn’t jump or run or push either and so Ed chances it and runs his bitten fingernails lightly over Harry’s skin. Harry’s eyes widen in response but then a smile breaks out over his face a bit like the sun rising and Ed is mesmerised and digging his fingers into Harry’s sides before he’s really made a conscious decision to. Harry squeals and grabs for Ed’s hands, trying to pull them off. He shifts out of Ed’s touches and the grip of his long fingers around his wrists hurts quite a lot actually, but Ed has to tease at least one more laugh out of him before he acquiesces and pulls his hands away. Harry’s eyes glisten with moisture and he’s gasping for breath and when Ed puts his hands back onto his skin gently he flinches but he’s still grinning from ear to ear.

“You’re a bastard,” he declares and Ed nods gravely.

“I am,” he grins and then leans forward slowly, being met halfway by Harry, sharing another playful kiss. This time, when Harry reaches for the zip on Ed’s hoodie, his hands are confident and he pulls it down almost until the end. The rush of cold air makes the muscles under Ed’s skin shift a little and he can feel goose bumps breaking out over his skin. Harry seemingly doesn’t care, the tips of his fingers tracing soft lines over Ed’s skin, leaving goose bumps of an entirely different kind in their wake. The first brush of Harry’s fingers over the wrinkled skin of one of Ed’s nipples has them both moaning softly into each other’s mouths so Harry keeps pushing and prodding and stroking at both of them. He strokes his palm over one and accidentally tickles himself. He traces a finger around the other and tries pushing it back into the flat of Ed’s chest like it’s actually a button. And when they’re almost fully hardened, he grips them both and twists them, just a little, just enough to skirt the line between _good_ and _too rough_ and make Ed flinch away from him before surging forward to kiss him again.

Ed’s hands mostly just grab at the muscles in Harry’s back, too distracted by the pleasure assaulting his still slightly weed-addled brain via his lips and nipples, but as Harry gets bored of playing and lets his hands span his rib cage instead, he lets his own hands travel up the length of Harry’s spine, dragging the jumper with him. Harry shifts in closer, letting his hands run back up Ed’s chest and circling his neck to press their torsos together and Ed subconsciously mirrors him, letting his clothed arms close around Harry’s naked back and pulling him in. Harry’s tongue does something deliciously wonderful to him and one of them moans again. He hasn’t planned it, but Ed leans them sideways anyway, supporting his own weight on one arm, Harry reaching to do the same as they lower themselves down onto the couch. Before Ed can lie down, Harry shifts and turns onto his back, grabbing Ed’s naked shoulder inside his open hoodie and pulling him down on top of him. His legs stay wrapped around Ed and Ed loves this couch because they both fit onto it like this. Consequences are pretty much the furthest thing from either of their minds right now and it makes it easy for Ed to reach for the hem of Harry’s jumper. It also makes it easy for Harry to push his back up off the sofa and then lift his hands up over his head, letting Ed divest him of the garment.

Harry’s grin has left its place on his face and is replaced by an almost small and private smile and wide eyes that stare at Ed with so much wonder it’s like he’s never seen him before. It reminds Ed of kittens and babies and little brothers and ex-girlfriends and he grabs a hand full of curls as he leans down to meet the upwards tilt of Harry’s chin with a rewarding kiss. For a moment, when Harry circles his arms around his neck and his legs sink down to tangle with Ed’s, with his hands in Harry’s hair and their lips sliding together effortlessly it feels terribly precious. Harry’s hands follow the slope of his shoulders and he pushes the fabric of his hoodie further down Ed’s arms until Ed lifts first one and then the other so Harry can pull the cuffs over his hands. It’s still not entirely opened and thus fastened around his belly, but they are both essentially topless now. Harry’s hands travel back up his arms, gripping his biceps as Ed lowers himself onto his forearms, his own hands returning to grabbing Harry’s unruly hair. He tugs experimentally and Harry keens and suddenly Ed feels like something in his chest gives and explodes outward and he answers Harry with a moan of his own as a sudden need to hold him close and never let him go floods his head. It feels almost like being in love for a moment - the way Harry sucks kisses into his lips like he needs Ed to _want_ to kiss him back and the way Ed doesn’t understand why Harry seems to think he doesn’t. But it can’t be and it isn’t, Ed knows that, because Harry’s not his and he’s not Harry’s. He lets go of Harry’s hair and instead cradles his face, sinking down half on top of Harry and half into the small space between Harry and the back rest. They keep trading lazy kisses with eyes at half-mast for a while.

“I’m tired,” Harry then mumbles against Ed’s lips and Ed nods a little, ducking his head to drop a kiss to Harry’s shoulder.

“‘S the drug,” he explains and reaches a hand to sneak in between his body and the couch to fully open the zipper of his hoodie.

“You’re warm,” Harry then adds sleepily, his head still turned towards Ed and watching him with tired but curious eyes.

“Body heat,” Ed replies slightly smugly and earns himself a half-hearted swat from Harry because he’s not actually asking for explanations. He tugs the hoodie free and up over them like the smallest make-shift blanket ever. But they’re pressed together and it’s comfortably warm in the flat anyway so they’ll make do. Harry snuggles impossibly closer and yawns unabashedly.

“Love you,” he murmurs into the little space between them then and Ed brings one arm up to drape over Harry’s chest, accepting the way Harry threads their fingers together.

“You too,” he answers and then the siren call of sleep seems too sweet to resist, so he closes his eyes and dozes off.

**The End**


End file.
